[Epic] More of Kelly's Fluff (LONG !)

From: Oki Purwanto <oki_at_...>
Date: Fri, 11 Jul 1997 10:40:53 +0800

I did not hear any complain (yet!), so I suppose you folks are enjoying
Kelly's fluff. Better than Inferno's I would say.

Regards
Oki



This gets better.

"Insurrection"
Part III

   "Warriors of the eternal Emperor!" he shouted, raising his red-stained
chainsword high over his head. He was standing at the far end of their line,
but each man was looking at him. "Today, many of your comrades have fallen!
We shall remember; never forgive! We pray these aliens feel pain! Bless your
weapons, and let them feel the righteous wrath of His vindication!"
   With one voice, the surviving troops sent forth a cheer, then sighted
their guns at the approaching enemy. At the opposite end of the defenses,
Vicconius lifted his Crozius Arcanum in salute to Ezekial. His words carried
on the common frequency in the Marines' helmets: "A thin line confronts the
foulest of enemies. Now the time of redemption is at hand. Our faith will be
our shield!"
   Before many more moments passed, the main brunt of the Eldar attack had
arrived. Shuriken stars hissed their vicious way at the defenders, slicing
deeply into the sheltering walls and butresses. Armored chips from the City
of Might splintered off, showering the humans with jagged fragments.
Explosions filled the air, throwing smoke and debris in all directions,
obscuring the Eldar advance. Such things were secondary, though, as each man
leveled his weapon and let loose volley after volley at the revealed
attackers.
   The approach to the City of Might had been cleared of most cover during
the previous attacks, due mainly to the sheer volume of firepower being
directed into and through it. Little remained now to hinder the Eldar as they
crossed the killing ground, or to provide them any protection. The defending
troops took as much advantage of that fact as they could, sending shots
pouring through the smoke and haze stirred up by the explosions.
   But despite their best efforts the Eldar still continued to gain ground.
This time it was obvious that they would not retreat so easily as they had
before. Ezekial knew in the back of his mind that the Eldar were a small-
numbered race; battle records of past conflicts between them and his Chapter
revealed that they substituted speed for strength, and expertise for
quantity. That they should now so readily sacrifice so many of their own
kind to prevent the humans from taking Mraba IV was incomprehensible. Yet it
was happening and the Sergeant could not deny the evidence of his own eyes.
   Only a few short minutes separated them from obliteration at the hands of
these graceful and deadly aliens. This attack was more focused, more potent
than any of their other attacks, and would soon swamp the desperate humans.
Several unarmored Guardsmen had already fallen to the frightening accuracy of
the Eldar guns, and the intensity was increasing. It was only a matter of
time before even the Marines succumbed.
   Ezekial was mentally preparing to sell his life as dearly as possible,
readying inspiring words on his men's behalf, when Vicconius let out a sudden
exalted howl. Thinking him wounded, Ezekial threw himself towards his mentor,
thundering down the defensive line. The sight that met his eyes, though, was
not that of the Chaplain dead on the ground. He still stood, blazing fury at
the enemy, but behind him yawned a vast black portal leading somewhere into
the depths of the City of Might. At the same time, the Chaplain's victorius
words rang out.
   "Look to the Emperor for salvation, and ye shall be answered!" he
thundered. "By His grace, we have gained the higher ground, and shall yet
prevail! The advantage is ours, and with it we shall smite our foes!"
   Ezekial did not stop to ponder how or why the portal had been opened; he
accepted it at face value, and sent a silent prayer of thanks to his lord,
the Emperor of Mankind. With urgent gestures, he began sending his men inside
the building.
   "Brother Lucius, have your combat squad provide covering fire," he
ordered. "Brother Baronus, you will assist the Imperial Guardsmen who remain!
Move quickly now, the Emperor has provided for our salvation! We must not
squander his faith in us!"
   Against a hail of incoming fire, the Marines quickly split up, one group
planting feet firmly and letting loose with boltguns, the other herding and
pushing the surviving Imperial troopers through the doorway. The Eldar,
seeing their quarry escaping, let out a weird wailing roar and threw
themselves forward in desperation. The last Guardsmen and Marines were
dodging through the opening as the aliens closed in. Only seconds remained
before their chance was gone.
   "Brother Lucius," Ezekial shouted, "position your men inside the door!
Shut it when all are inside!" With one last shot, the Sergeant spun to meet
the attackers. "Brother-Chaplain, let us show these abominations what men of
the Imperium are made of!" Slinging his boltgun, he drew his bolt pistol and
activated his chainsword.
   With a howl and a swing of his Crozius, Vicconius stepped next to Ezekial.
In an instant they were surrounded by whirling mad dervishes whose multi-
colored armor plating flashed and gleamed in their gunfire. It was apparent
to the two veterans that the Eldar were almost as weakened as they were;
these were not any of the numerous "specialist" warriors the Eldar used, but
were instead common Guardians. Behind them, though, came many, many more of
them, and while their abilities did not approach those of the Space Marines'
they would eventually win with sheer numbers. Ezekial began to think they had
emptied their entire Craftworld in order to attack Mraba IV, and surely it
was rare for Eldar to outnumber anyone. But again, his eyes did not lie, and
he was threatened with death from every direction.
   Under such conditions his self-doubt and shame receded, and pure killing
instincts took over. Only the strongest and most ruthless of humans could
become Space Marines, defenders of Humanity, and Ezekial and Vicconius were
bastions of strength. With uncommon skill and grace for such heavily armored
men, they ducked and dodged, parried and struck at their attackers. Ezekial's
chainsword sang as it cut through Eldar bodies, its high-pitched buzz
blending into the aliens' deathcries. Eldar blood spattered in all
directions, coating the two Marines' armor, slicking it to a wet sheen.
Parrying with his sword, he shot two aliens point-blank with his bolt pistol.
Spinning, he met the next attacker, vicious whirring sword biting through
limbs and weapons with equal ease.
   Vicconius' Crozius Arcanum hummed with power as he struck left and right,
knocking Guardians aside effortlessly. Crackling with blue energy, it
released its built-up charge upon contact, detonating open armor and body
alike. Light pulsed from his Rosarius as it absorbed hits, its conversion
field generator deflecting them into the visible spectrum. Both the Marines
and the Eldar had eye protection, so no advantage was gained; it simply added
its stroboscopic effect to the already tumultuous battle. Roaring with the
exultation of death, whirling his winged symbol of office -- his
representation of the Emperor he served -- he killed and killed.
   The initial number of attackers, maybe eight, were quickly dispatched by
the Marines. In the short lull that followed they retreated closer to the
doorway. "The Emperor favors us with slaughter this day, Ezekial," Vicconius
crowed.
   Ezekial could not see inside the Chaplain's armor, but he knew from past
experience that the older man was flushed with excitement and exertion. His
own eyes glowed with the elation of destroying the Emperor's foes, and the
knowledge of his righteous cause.
   With a last shot from his pistol, they entered the City of Might.
Instantly the other Marines closed the portal. The controls seemed foreign
and unfamiliar but apparently Lucius had divined them. He operated the
glowing panel with ease. The door swung shut on silent hinges, sealing out
the din of battle and screaming warriors with a hefty click.

[continued in Part IV]



"Insurrection"
Part IV

   As the doorway closed, glowpanels hummed on, casting a gentle light on
the room's new occupants. They stood dwarfed by the immensity of the building
in which they took refuge. By some odd trick of light, or perhaps a
technological feat unduplicated since Mraba IV's inhabitants constructed for
eternity, the inside of the City of Might appeared larger than the outside.
Vaulted ceilings arched upwards, meeting in dim shadows far overhead, where
keystones and gargoyles gazed down silently. Vast arcing hallways curved and
swept left and right, flowing symmetrically out of the central room. Huge
multicolored panels, full of flickering, pulsating lights, functioned as
smoothly now as they did when first activated.
   The bedraggled survivors gazed in awe for several long seconds, drinking
in the cool silence of their surroundings. Everywhere they looked ornamental
Imperial symbols -- winged, double-headed eagles -- were emblazoned on all
surfaces. The overall style of interior architecture was reminiscient of the
early Imperium: fluted, sculpted pillars; crenellated wall-sconces; dim,
intricate bas-reliefs on every flat surface. Dozens of angry marble cherubs
topped wall and ceiling joints, standing ready to hurl their jagged-tipped
arrows at anyone below. They had entered a room from the time when the
Emperor walked among men.
   "We are in the presence of our lord and master," murmured Vicconius. "His
hand is in everything here." Now out of immediate danger, the Chaplain
reached up to unseal his helmet. Cradling it in one arm, he gazed wide-eyed
about the room. Other Marines, Ezekial among them, also removed their
helmets. With a quiet hiss of air and a soft click, they bared their faces to
the cherubs and gargoyles. For some unexplained reason, they felt close to
the source of their faith. The room seemed almost a chapel, so serene was it.
   A scuttling sound came from a darkened corner.
   "There is more here than the Emperor's presence, Brother-Chaplain,"
Baronus interposed. "Look there, in the corner." Raising a hand lamp, he
directed its beam into the shadows.
   Illuminated full by the shaft of light was a native of Mraba IV. Holding
one arm up to shield it from the beam, it hunched over as if seeking to hide.
Smaller than a normal human, it still resembled one in general shape and
form: two legs, two arms, a single head. But all surface details were gone,
buried beneath a layer of shiny, wrinkled metal, which reflected back
Baronus' light in a thousand bright sparkles. It huddled in its corner,
neither fleeing nor attacking.
   Vicconius turned to the Marine carrying the squad's flamer, pointing an
armored finger at the aborigine. "Cleanse this area with the purifying flame,
brother."
   Ezekial pushed forward through the press of troopers. "Brother Mikail,
belay that order."
   The Chaplain swung instantly to face the Sergeant. "Brother-Sergeant...?"
   Ezekial hurried to explain himself. "Brother-Chaplain, if you would but
think you would realize that such an act is undesirable. To kill the
monstrosity is just, but imagine the possible damage any discharge of
weapons in this nearly-sacred place would have on it." He paused to gesture
around him, taking in the whole building. "This is from the days of the
Emperor's waking life; such beauty must be protected at all costs. What is
more, we should seek out its mysteries, not destroy them. How did this animal
come to be inside here, when we ourselves were stymied for so long? What did
we do to gain entrance? The answers to these questions may be critical, if
they will affect the Eldar's own ability to find their way inside." At the
mention of the aliens, the men realized they could hear muffled pounding
through the wall behind them. Tiny vibrations sent powder and dust flitting
through the air.
   Vicconius visibly forced himself to relax after Ezekial's chiding. "Very
well, Brother-Sergeant. Let the thing live, for now. But your curiosity has
always been your greatest weakness; let it not contaminate your judgment."
He moved off to examine the numerous control panels lining the walls.
   Ezekial felt taken aback. Without realizing it, he had berated his mentor
and friend. Humbled and shamed once again, he deliberately put his attention
elsewhere. "Brother Lucius, take your men and fan out down the left corridor.
Brother Baronus, take Brothers Pluvius, Mikail, and Torius and search the
right-most corridor. Proceed as far as safety dictates, and try to determine
what lies ahead for us here. Use your weapons sparingly, and only if needed.
Go with the Emperor; your faith is your shield."
   As the Space Marines stomped off into the darkness, heavy tread echoing
off the distant walls, Ezekial rounded on the Guardsmen. "Who commands you
now, Stirkans?" he demanded.
   The tired, dirty men looked amongst themselves, shaking their heads as
each refused the others' urgings. Ezekial understood their plight but did not
share their lack of enthusiasm. He still had no time for their wounded, save
to let them be put aside while the rest continued to fight. He reigned in as
much patience as he could spare, gazing at them with impassive features. No
hint of the hunted feeling from which he suffered showed on his face, but the
soft, rhythmic pounding of the Eldar did not let him forget it.
   These men were loyal human troopers, and if they were disheartened now it
was only because they _were_ human. He regarded them silently, taking in
their appearance. Because they had been called so quickly to Mraba IV, they
had not been able to adapt their standard uniform to the local conditions.
Still clad in normal blue and green tunics, they had stood out sharply
against the red-gold hills of the planet.
   Ezekial had a deeply ingrained disdain for those few Space Marine Chapters
who made use of camouflage in their armors' colors, but for the relatively
unprotected Imperial Guardsmen he had no such misgivings. The battlefields of
the universe were varied and deadly; a Guardsman needed all the help he could
get; a Space Marine, on the other hand, was more than a match for any foe.
Now that they had gained the interior of the building, though, it was a moot
point. They would all either live or die as one.
   "Stirkans of the 43rd Regiment," he intoned, "you have fought bravely and
well. Yet the Emperor requires more of you. One of you must command the rest.
Captain Horatio would expect no less of such fine soldiers." At the mention
of the Captain's name, the weary men seemed to take some small measure of
strength. Their heads lifted and their shoulders straightened slightly.
Horatio's inspirational death -- and this Space Marine's insistence on
honoring the fallen Guardsman -- were too recent and powerful to ignore. "Who
among you will take up the mantle of command?"
   Slowly, one of the soldiers, bloody but whole, rose to his feet. Drawing a
tired breath, he let it out, almost with reluctance. With the same
resignation, he said, "Let it be me, then. I am not most senior here, but I
have the most battles under my belt. And I'm still unhurt." Grinning wryly,
he added, "Must be the Emperor's preference, since I _am_ most unhurt and a
veteran. I am Trooper Sturm."
   "Very well, then," Ezekial replied, hearing the distant soft pounding of
the Eldar, "you will lead your men, and shall report to me. Together, with
the Emperor's aid, we shall prevail."
   To the regular humans of the Imperial Guard, such consideration in a Space
Marine was unheard of. Horatio had commented more than once, in the few lulls
they had had between fighting and running, that the Dark Angels as a whole
seemed haunted, or hunted, or both, by something the Captain could never
imagine. He had warned his men against putting their whole faith in the
Angels, and had cautioned them that Space Marines were "men" like men were
ants. Such power, combined with the strange dark attitude they adopted, he
had said, could just as easily be used against loyal humans as against true
enemies of the Imperium. The Dark Angels seemed to take an extremist's view
of things, and Horatio had said he didn't want to be there when things went
from black and white to gray.
   But the Sergeant among them appeared haunted in a different way. His was
a more personal brooding, and he vented it and countered it and subverted it,
while never giving in to the full extremist's view. He seemed both stronger
for it, and yet more fragile -- which had gotten quite the laugh when Horatio
had used the word originally: a Space Marine, fragile! -- in spite of, or
because of, his personal demons. He had argued for a more conservative
reconnaissance instead of a wide-ranging one; he disputed the intelligence
reports underestimating the Eldar presence; and he gave Captain Horatio's
soul usherance to the arms of the Emperor. Sturm and his fellows had just
about made up their minds to trust this Space Marine, at least.

[continued in Part V]
(Opinions are welcome!)



"Insurrection"
Part V

   "Sir," Sturm began hesitantly, "I would like to say... that is, the men
and I...." Ezekial waited, face completely devoid of emotion. Sturm forced
himself to spit out the words. "We'd like to thank you for what you did for
the Captain. Sir. It means a lot to us."
   Ezekial still betrayed nothing, keeping his expression blank, impassive,
but deep inside he allowed himself to feel their gratitude. This common bond
was forgotten by many of his brethren, but they were once regular humans too.
They all fought for the continuance of their race as a whole, but it was men
like these Guardsmen who made it somewhat more worth fighting for. Almost
immediately he noticed Vicconius watching him, speculatively, and felt a rush
of shame, and doubt of his own intentions. Damn the man!, he though, but he
knew the Chaplain was right, as always. Marines were too special a force to
waste their time coddling the normal humans; they were only to be protected
in defense of the Imperium, not have their every fear quelled individually.
   Without transition, Ezekial's guilt changed to a familiar anger. "Trooper
Sturm, I did what I did for my own reasons," he responded coldly, emphasizing
each word, "not yours. When you have earned _my_ gratitude, I will do the
same for you. Now lead your men, and have them find secure positions from
which to watch the entrance. The Eldar may yet find egress." With an
absolutely casual flick of his wrist, he sent the burly Guardsman tumbling
backward, to be caught by the other soldiers. Instantly a pang of regret
flared within him, but his anger kept it small. He turned away, snapping his
helmet on with a thunk, so that Vicconius and Sturm would not be able to see
his face. The dials and runes brightened inside his visor as his armor fed
power to them.
   Knowing his men would have similarly reactivated their helmets to take
advantage of its dark-seeing capabilities -- for the bulk of the City of
Might was wreathed in shadows -- he opened the comm channel for a progress
report. His armor's acoustic sensors brought him the faint thump-thumping of
the Eldar much more clearly than even his own enhanced hearing had. "Brother
Lucius, report."
   The Space Marine's voice came back right away. Soft clicks and pops made
it sound more distant than it really was. "All is quiet, Brother-Sergeant.
This corridor continued in this direction for some time, then began to slope
downward. We have passed several heavily-reinforced doors, but they are too
secure to open without damaging them, per your instructions." He paused,
anticipating a reply.
   "Continue exploring, then, Brother Lucius," Ezekial ordered. "Await my
signal to return. Brother Baronus, report."
   There was no response.
   "Brother Baronus, report," Ezekial repeated. Alarm bells began to go off
in the back of his mind. Still there was no response. Only the soft hiss of
static sounded in his ears.
   Vicconius materialized next to him. "Brother-Sergeant," he whispered. His
face was bright with emotion.
   Ezekial ignored him. He tried Baronus one more time, then sent his next
words to the other squad. "Brother Lucius."
   "Yes, Brother-Sergeant?" The voice was expectant.
   "My last orders to you are countermanded. Return at once to this location.
Your combat squad will find Brother Baronus and the others. Report your
progress as you return."
   "Affirmative," came the voice. "Combat squad Lucius returning. We are
now advancing to position 05:0351. Estimated contact: 67 seconds."
   Ezekial finally had time to spare for the Chaplain's attention. "Yes,
Brother, what is it?"
   The Interrogator-Chaplain bared his teeth in a grin. They were painted
black as a sign that his smiles were dark, not mirthful. This one was no
exception. "Joyous news, Ezekial," he crowed, "the Emperor's vengeance has
begun. Behold!"
   With a sweep of his arm, he guided the Sergeant's gaze to a bank of view-
screens. Previously inactive, the busy Chaplain had apparently divined their
operation and spent the last few minutes finding out what they showed. Now
they were lit up brightly, their flickering colors casting weird shadows
behind the two Marines. But the images which appeared on their surfaces was
what had excited the Interrogator-Chaplain.
   In sharp color, the wall of monitors looked out over several different
scenes. Obviously, somehow they were tied into the other Mraba bastions
across the planet, and the events transpiring there were being relayed here.
On one screen, a horizon-long row of tanks belched forth fire and destruction
against onrushing Eldar warriors, while they in turn blasted back with their
own weapons. On another, victorious Eldar Swooping Hawks danced circles
through the air, singing strange alien songs over the dead remains of fallen
Imperial Guardsmen and Dark Angel troops.
   It was the third and fourth monitors which had drawn Vicconius' attention,
though. In the first, the two Marines instantly recognized their original
landing location, designated Destiny Point. There, kilometer-high cityspires
arced to the dusty heavens, glittering in the golden sunlight. Beneath the
star-tipped tops, the gigantic Imperial transports still stood unscathed,
berthed in protective energy barriers. To Ezekial's mind that could only mean
that the core of their assault was still intact, and that the Eldar had not
won a total victory.
   On the last screen, though, was the most dramatic view: a sloping hillside
speckled with the lights of thousands of warriors' encampments. And in the
skies, many more lights which were not stars, but starships. Vicconius
fiddled with the controls, and enlarged one section of the picture. The first
rays of dawn were just beginning to fall on this portion of the planet, and
its light gleamed off polished power armor. In sudden brilliant clarity, the
purple, gold and white colors of the Emperor's Light Space Marines blazed
into view. Ezekial felt his heart lighten as he realized that, somehow, they
had arrived as reinforcements weeks ahead of schedule.
   Vicconius' thoughts paralleled his own. "The warp works in mysterious
ways," he murmured reverently, "but surely the terrible weapon of our faith
in our Emperor is revealed to be just and true. How else but could they
arrive before they left?"
   "Combat squad Lucius, estimating contact in seventeen seconds." The words
hung in the air, breaking the trance of the viewscreens.
   Vicconius whirled on the oblivious Guardsmen. "You see!" he shouted. "The
Emperor has not forgotten us! Vengeance to the alien heretics! Death to the
enemies of Mankind!"
   The sound of heavy tread echoed into the room as Lucius and his men
arrived. Entering at the ready, they rapidly dispersed to cover all corners.
Taking one last look at the heady elixir of victory on the monitors, Ezekial
quickly outlined their situation to the newly arrived soldiers. Exhorting
them on, he showed them the same images, whipping his loyalists to a killing
frenzy. Vicconius watched approvingly as the Sergeant spurred them with
stirring words, then reinstated discipline. _This_ was the Ezekial he had
trained, not the curiosity-driven weakling of earlier.
   The Sergeant was too busy to notice the Chaplain's attention, however.
Instantly collating their acquired data, his suit's computers extrapolated
the likely configuration of the opposite corridor, down which Baronus had
gone. With sure tactical finesse, Ezekial gave his men their orders: "Lucius,
this time I go with you. Standard corridor advancment, series alpha.
Vicconius, you shall wait here, to ward our backs. Trooper Sturm and his men
will assist. We are the Dark Angels, and our vengeance is swift."
   With mirrored precision, the green-clad warriors set out down the right
hand corridor. Helmets on, their armor let them see easily down the dark
hall. For twenty meters, then forty meters, they saw nothing. At intervals,
Ezekial called for Baronus to answer, but no responses came. They continued
on steadily, but not hastily.

[continued in Part VI]
Received on Fri Jul 11 1997 - 02:40:53 UTC